


(It's Got to Be) All the Way

by erde



Category: Avengers Assemble (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Artist Steve Rogers, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Mild Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-11 20:38:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9018838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erde/pseuds/erde
Summary: Steve and Tony are all about life in the fast lane. That not only applies to flying suits of armor and riding motorcycles, but also to falling into relationships, apparently.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cap Iron Man Community](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Cap+Iron+Man+Community).



> A fill for the following prompt from the 2016 Holiday Exchange: Community Prompts: _Steve and Tony go out for a ride either at sunset or when the stars are out. Steve takes to the road on his motorcycle and Tony takes to the sky in his armor._

In the beginning, Steve had been yet another bystander. He hadn't meant to see Iron Man fly by that day, or any of the days that followed, for that matter. He hadn't been waiting for anything, much less for him, a blur of red and gold as he crossed the sky like a whirlwind, gone in the blink of the eye except for the trail of light and white smoke he left in his wake.

He hadn't been looking for Tony.

It didn't matter that he hadn't, in the end.

"There he goes," someone had said, and Steve looked up and followed the suit's flightpath as it went past the lit windows along the way, a moment's distraction for all the overburdened staffers that had probably been left behind working late.

He had also caught him turning around corners at the very last minute and outlining ledges as if he were painting definitive strokes of ink over the pencil lines of a sketch, which made Steve stare in disbelief. _Thrill-seeking and self-indulgent,_ Steve had thought, shaking his head as if he hadn't gotten a single kick out of jumping from enemy tanks he had set alight himself. 

_Admit it, Cap, you were jealous,_ he imagined Tony saying now, and the image was clear—arms folded across his chest, a tilt of his chin as if he meant business, eyes playful.

And perhaps there _had_ been a sliver of jealousy involved, seeing as how Steve was bound by the conventions at ground level such as traffic and streetlights. As soon as he managed to maneuver his bike away from the busiest intersections, however, he would throw his weight forward and speed up through the streets, enjoying the feeling of the wind in his face and rushing by his ears.

Pot, kettle, black.

 

 

"Iron Man," someone whispered and pointed at the sky. Steve liked to play catch-up sometimes. 

They had started running into each other more often whenever they went out on their own, and while it wasn't planned on either his part or Tony's, he looked forward to see him take to the sky just as Steve went for a ride, to spot him later down the road or just as they were on their way home.

There were times when Tony would fly lower and give him a mock salute before he sped towards the Tower. They didn't race each other, of course, but it was something like it, a bit childish, a little fun. 

Tony could make him bite the dust any minute, but he usually didn't. It was only in the final leg of their not-quite-a-race that he edged ahead, so that when Steve took the elevator and the doors opened with a ping in front of his lab, Tony was already there waiting with takeout.

They didn't schedule the outings, but they did meet a couple times a week at the very least, just the two of them, to talk about the team. Today was Thursday. Tony picked the menu on Thursdays.

"Fusion cuisine," Tony said with a quirk of his eyebrows and an encompassing gesture. 

Steve smiled. He had never been a picky eater, so he didn't mind.

He didn't know exactly how the subject came up later, although it wasn't out of the ordinary for them to start talking about their last mission only to veer into marginally related things.

"I could get you a suit," Tony said, holding out his box towards Steve while the cogs in his head started turning, eyes narrowed to slits, fingers framing his chin. He probably had already come up with a design by the time Steve looked down to see what Tony was offering. 

" _Never,_ " Steve said, but he did accept the food. Tony made a point of ordering different things so that Steve could try them all. It had taken a while for him to notice it, but sharing was something that came naturally to Tony. He did it even without thinking.

"I could take you for a ride, then," Tony said, reaching out for a napkin. "Come on, Cap, we're among friends here. You can tell me. You _want_ one. I've seen the dirty looks you give me whenever I get ahead of you."

"I do not," Steve said, laughing.

"Do not want the ride or—"

"Is this a roundabout way of you saying you want to ride my bike later?" Steve asked, and it wasn't a surprise to find that this thing between them did him good, made his chest feel lighter. Tony did.

Tony raised his eyebrows. "Depends. Is that you offering?"

Steve could have said something about how spending time with each other was as good a team-building exercise as any other, but he was past needing excuses. "Yes," he said instead.

"In that case, wow, Cap, you caught me," Tony said, smiling. Steve liked it when he smiled like this, halfway between a smirk and something genuine, a little unguarded. "We'll work out later who gives a ride to whom first."

Steve snorted and _didn't_ blush.

 

 

"Ready?" Tony said, wrapping an arm around Steve's waist. Steve stepped on his boot, vaguely thinking of music and dancing floors and missed chances. The memory should have hurt more than it did, a painful rasping breath instead of a sigh. But Tony was holding him close, not knowing what it meant for Steve, but holding him nonetheless.

"You sure you're not too tired?" He had seen Tony spend day and night in his lab, tinkering away with a dozen projects at the same time. 

"Nah," Tony said. "Besides, this is how I like to unwind. You tucked the kids in and told them a bedtime story?" 

Steve chuckled. " _Tony._ "

"I'll take that as a yes. Up we go, then."

They left the Tower behind in a matter of seconds. They dove at a straight angle, the view of the street below getting closer and closer, and then they climbed, soaring. 

Steve laughed. It was different from all the times they had done this in the middle of a mission. If he had wanted to, he could have even brushed the winged helmet of the statue of Mercury atop Grand Central. "Another Winghead," Tony said in passing, making Steve smile.

With the city lights far behind them, the stars could be seen more clearly. Tony lifted his faceplate and said, "Nice view," but his eyes were on Steve all the time. He was, in fact, giving him a certain kind of look. 

Steve had learned not to take him too seriously, at least not all the time, but there was a budding warmth inside him now, chasing away the cold. It would have been foolish of him to say he felt like walking on air, so he didn't and let the moment pass.

Tony looked above, face turned towards the starry sky. Something shifted then, small, almost imperceptible. You had to pay close attention to guess right, and when Tony fell quiet and his expression grew somber, Steve thought, _Arsenal._

He covered the arc reactor with his palm. "This is really something, Tony. Thanks," Steve said, and that was enough to bring him back. His smile began as a squiggly line between his pursed lips, unsure, faltering, then eased into a single curve.

"Anytime, Cap."

 

 

"I'll pick you up after work," Steve had said.

He parked outside one of Stark Industries' offices and waited. Steve was so used to see him in the armor or holed up in his lab, that sometimes he forgot that there was also this side to Tony. Business meetings, financial reports, R&D projects that weren't for the Avengers.

Before long, Tony emerged from the revolving doors donning a light gray suit and a pink tie. He looked well put together, _dashing,_ and Steve took special notice of the combination of colors because he was imaging the right mix of black and red and white that he would need to recreate his outfit.

This was something he did from time to time, painting scenes in his mind whenever he didn't have the tools with him. Back home, he mixed his watercolors on a chipped dish he had saved from getting thrown away, and since he had left in a hurry, there were still red and yellow splotches waiting for him to rinse under a trickle of tap water.

"You don't want to drop by the Tower first?" Steve asked.

Tony shook his head. "I'll ride in style," he said with a curve of his lips, then poked the helmet Steve had in his hands. "Safety first?"

"I won't take any chances," Steve said with a smile. _With you_ was implied. Tony laughed and let him strap the helmet, and if Steve hadn't paid attention to Tony's eyes before, he would have done so now. For his eyes—red, yellow, blue, and a hint of white.

Tony's arms circled his waist. He said something about how this made him retroactively one of the cool kids, having Captain America pick him up to take him for a ride in his bike.

"Tony, look at all the things you _create._ You're cool in my book," Steve said.

"I was just given Captain America's official seal of approval. Who needs anything else?" Tony said, sounding amused, and it was a pity that Steve couldn't turn to see whether the expression on his face matched the warmth on his voice.

The first stop was for food. The second was on a curve of the road by the river. There were rivulets of light shimmering on the water and the night was beginning to cool. Summer was saying its goodbyes.

Steve told him that they could do this again with more time in their hands. There was a route heading north that was beautiful in the fall, if Tony was into that sort of thing, pockets of reddish-brown shades painted across the hills and climbing up the trees lined along the road, and below, the Hudson.

On second thought, Steve didn't think Tony would find any of that interesting, nature giving way to small towns whose amenities paled against those of the big city. While Tony didn't need his tech, Steve doubted he would be keen on going without it when there wasn't a bet involved. "Not your idea of fun, probably," he said, a little sheepish.

"No, I'd love to join you," Tony said in that matter-of-fact way that was easy to believe. His eyes were bright and warm.

These were plans for the future. Every time Steve made plans outside the battlefield, there was a little voice inside his head that whispered _It might not be,_ leftovers from his past and the things that had never come to happen.

But there was something he had learned over time, thanks to Tony—plans can't be ruined if you don't plan a damn thing to begin with. Tony was close, the mood was right, and it was now or never, even if a part of him did wonder whether giving him his jacket would have been a nice lead-up or something so silly that it would have made Tony laugh at him.

This was what went through Steve's head as he went in for a kiss, the fear that he had misunderstood everything up to now and the equally terrifying idea that he was far too old-fashioned to be of interest to him, no matter what Tony had said before.

Tony, who always struck Steve as someone who had far less reservations when it came to these things, placed a hand on the small of Steve's back and steadied him, then brought him closer. _Maybe, maybe, maybe,_ Steve thought, holding out hope. There was a myriad of colors behind his closed eyelids, all warm, all Tony, and he intended to keep each and every single one of them with him.

The moment lasted forever until it no longer did, and when they pulled back, the tips of Tony's eyelashes tickled his face. Steve wanted to smile wide, but he was waiting for Tony to say something first, so he bit the inside of his cheek. He gave up the pretense right away. Tony was grinning.

They agreed to take it slow. They kissed again, of course, but then they made sure to lay everything down in strategic, practical terms. Steve still got away with wrapping his jacket around Tony's shoulders. It was a chilly night, the fabric of Tony's suit looked thin and besides, Tony found it charming.

They thought that this was just what they needed, a little more of this passé— _quaint,_ Tony amended with a smile—brand of courtship. They were the best of friends, but it was all so new. They didn't want to crash and burn.

Steve held Tony's hand. It was a little innocent, like the beginnings of a school days' romance. Neither of them had actually had one of those. Everyone in his grade—both in his boarding school and the all-girls one that was close by—had been older than Tony, the wonder boy. Steve had missed so many days of class thanks to his being ill, that it was something of a miracle that anyone even remembered his name.

They gave it a try.

The attempt survived the ride back home, even though Tony's hold was like electricity. It even lasted while they took the elevator and went up all those floors in close proximity. Since they were really doing this, Steve thought he might as well go all the way and escort Tony to his room in a display of chivalry. It was a little ridiculous, but it gave him an excuse not to leave his side just yet.

In hindsight, that wasn't that sound of an idea. After all, both of them loved going fast.

They left a trail of clothes all the way to the bedroom. Steve came close to losing his patience with one of Tony's cufflinks. Tony laughed and helped him, warm fingers set against the back of Steve's hand.

The arc reactor made Tony's skin glow. Steve, who always thought about getting the colors just right whenever he found something beautiful, drank in from the view. He painted wide strokes on Tony's body and kissed his stomach. Tony's chest rose and fell against the tip of Steve's nose.

The attention to detail seemed to please Tony. " _Artists,_ " Tony said with roll of his eyes, but the look on his face was fond.

When Tony pulled a small bottle from the top drawer of his night table, fingertips shining with oil, Steve didn't tell him that it smelled sweet like Tony tasted, or that he was thinking of fingerpainting, the human body as a canvas.

Tony would have laughed at that, and in the space of a blink, Steve decided it didn't matter if he did. He wanted to hear him laugh. Then Tony touched him, one hand wrapped around his erection, and Steve didn't think of anything else for a little while.

There were colorful pieces of memories in the back of his mind, arranged next to one another like stained glass. He remembered touching Tony back when it didn't mean anything, fingers splayed on his side as he held him and got him to safety, his palm sliding against his in a firm handshake, a brush of skin as Tony handed him a report. It was always about the details with him.

Steve bent lower to kiss him, and they kept the same rhythm, the same friction. Tony's body was solid against him, warm as if he had been standing under the sun all this while, and for the briefest of moments, Steve imagined how it would be to make a full-body portrait of him.

He was thinking of a life that wasn't his, an attic studio on a cobbled cul-de-sac, an easel in the middle of the room, and to the left, a vase with brushes and all kinds of paint. On the same table, fresh fruit he kept around for still lifes. Tony would pick one as a snack before he sat on the bed, waiting.

By then, Steve would have committed his features to memory, so he would let him sleep while the Tony on the canvas smiled at him. Big raindrops would hit the glass in the afternoon and they would make love with the windows open, listening to the rain in the afterglow.

The real Tony wrapped his arms around Steve's shoulders and breathed his name, puffing it out like smoke, and the heat rose from his body in waves, faster and faster now. Under him, Tony was a single tense wire, muscles pulled taut, eyes closed.

Steve tried to hold out and let Tony rise and crash against him, but it was impossible when Tony's body quivered like that, with tiny little shocks that reached deep and low. He came with bright pinpoints of white clouding his vision not long afterwards.

Tony held him throughout, arms loose around Steve's torso, then reached out to caress his face. "So much for taking it slow," he said with a snort.

Steve touched his forehead to his, enjoying the feeling of having him this close. "Second thoughts?"

"As a matter of fact," Tony said, making Steve raise an eyebrow, "not at all." 

The last few words came out in something akin to a deep held sigh that quickly turned into a yawn. Steve watched him with a smile, chin propped up in the heel of his hand, and Tony returned the look through half-lidded eyes.

Steve said, "You're sleepy."

"Nope, I'm not," Tony replied, wrinkling his nose, but he ended up sighing again and closing his eyes all the same, face growing slack. In time, Steve let the soft, cool light of the arc reactor lull him to sleep. 

They woke up later at what Tony called an unholy hour. Steve pointed out that Tony was used to pull all-nighters, but Tony insisted that staying awake until five something was one thing and waking up at this godforsaken, wretched hour was another.

Steve rolled his eyes, kissed him, and said, "Good morning."

"The sun isn't even _out,_ " Tony complained, but he still took Steve's hand in his.

"Let's wait for it, then," Steve whispered low, nibbling Tony's mouth, and as they waited, dawn came with a golden line playing around the corner of their lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Please check the [wonderful piece of art](http://hundredthousands.tumblr.com/post/158317828011/its-got-to-be-all-the-way-by-erde-steve-and) that Steph drew for this fic. Thank you!


End file.
